


How They Met

by pastelkiwi



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Abuse, Cheating, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Intrusive Thoughts, Pastelkiwi AU, i guess, maria is henry's wife's name in my au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:51:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelkiwi/pseuds/pastelkiwi





	How They Met

Rain battered hard against the window. It had only started sprinkling about an hour prior, just as the pizzeria closed for the night. The commute home was terrifying; the sound of the weather dared to carry his mind away.

 

William's body ached to sprawl out on the couch and drift to sleep from the sound. But instead of being able to enjoy the night, he had to clean the mess his children had left for him. William let out a huff. The mess of toys and drawing paper was the only sign that anyone lived here at all.

 

_ They knew they should leave no signs. _

 

William picked several pieces of loose paper from the ground, crayon scribbled on by unskilled hands. William noticed the focus of his children's scribbling; Ellias drew the family. Toby scrawled letters across pages; sharp zig-zags in black crayon. Sometimes names came from the word soup; "Foxy" and "Mike" among them. The most difficult word was one William had to squint to make out;

 

"C"

"H"

"A"

 

...

 

William crumpled the leaves in his hand and placed them carefully in the bin. Following came broken bits of crayon as they rolled from his palm. Then, in a manner of habit, he covered these with scraps left from dinner. He closed the can and brushed his hands on his pants to free them from the feeling of wax.

 

There was a knock at the door. William paused.

 

He wasn't expecting a visitor.

 

His footsteps echoed through the vacant room. Every step could barely be heard on the floor above, children decoding mannerisms like a second language.

 

" _Stay in your rooms_ ," He said, his voice much louder than the click of his shoes and the drumming of rain. None of the children moved from where they were, ears pressed against the carpeted floor. Those words sounded innocent to an outsider, but they knew better. But why would someone come here?

 

Who would knock at this hour? If it made any sense, the intruder would be business.

 

Carefully, William leaned down to the porthole in his door. Through the fish-eye of the lens, he saw someone… small. Vulnerable. They were shaking. It was too dark to make out anything else.

 

It wasn't business.

 

He stood straight, and let out another huff. Whoever it was, they could wait a second longer. He took a slow breath. He counted from five, backwards, in a whisper.

 

_ Five _ . He placed one hand on the doorknob.

 

_ Four _ . The other went to the knife in his pocket.

 

_ Three _ . Breathe in.

 

_ Two _ . Breathe out.

 

_ One _ .

 

He opened the door, thinking he was ready to attack, but what was there caught him completely off guard.

 

_ "...Maria?" _

 

She nodded.

 

"...Hi, Will." Her voice wavered. "...Can I come in?"

 

She wasn't good at hiding her crying. He turned and gestured inside.

 

"Of course." He hated her.

 

"Thank you."

 

She nearly walked right past the doormat. He put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

 

"You're soaked from the rain. I don't want a stain on my carpet."

 

She closed the door and stood where she was, quiet. He left to get a towel.

 

The bathroom was a fleeting moment of solitude. He looked out the window. The car that sat in his driveway was worn but clean. The lights were still on inside, illuminating the leather seats. Henry's car. Empty.

 

She was alone.  _ Why? _

 

His nerves were gripped by a fear of what he didn't know. He took a towel off the back of the door, and let the weight of it sit in his hands.

 

\--

 

_ Toby  _ sat, nearly lost in his thoughts, picking at the carpet.

 

His stomach hurt.

 

There was a gentle knock on his window, instantly breaking his concentration. He saw Ellias trying to open his window. He nearly tripped running to open the latch.   
  


Ellias held on to the window pane as  _ Toby  _ worked to silently open the window. Ellias did his best to keep his balance on the roof tiles. It was much harder to hold on when it was raining as hard as it was. The second the opening was wide enough, Ellias slid through and quickly closed the window behind him. They both let out breaths they didn't know they were holding.

Ellias was out of breath, but wasted no time beginning to talk.

 

"I know Dad's mad, but- I had to come over here. Do you know what's going on?"

 

Toby shook his head. That little voice whispered out.

 

"Did you see who's here?"

 

Ellias nodded feverishly.

 

"Sammy, it's  _ your mom!" _

 

Sammy nearly threw something at him.

 

"That's not funny..." He whined.

 

Ellias froze, confused.

Then, laughing a little, pointed back to the window.

 

"Dude- No! I didn't- I didn't make a 'your mom' joke- She's really here! Look!"

 

Sammy got up, annoyed, and tried not to trip over his socks as he looked out the window into the driveway. Upon seeing his  _ real  _ dad's car, his eyes opened wide. He turned back to Ellias, in tears.

 

"She came to get me…!"

 

\--

 

William let out a sigh as he walked back to the thing that was soaking his doormat.

 

"Here you go," he said, and quickly tousled her hair with the towel before he draped it around her shoulders. She took it from him and continued to dry herself from the rain.

 

"Thank you."

 

"No problem." He sighed again.

 

_ Why  _ was she here.

 

"I have tea I can make for you. Normally I'd offer coffee, but at this hour-"

 

"Tea would be nice," she muttered.

  
  


_ She interrupted me. _

  
  


William gestured sharply to the couch, giving permission for her to leave the doormat now that she was dry. He walked briskly to the kitchen.

 

Turning on the faucet, he felt his hands tremble.

 

_ She  _ **_interrupted_ ** _ me. _

 

He filled the kettle.

 

**_She interrupted me._ **

 

Water flowed past the rim. He watched it bubble out, pretending the opening was her torn open neck.

The skin and muscles and tendons were strings from the many wounds his knife would shape. She would be dying there, her blood swirling down the drain. Even as she took her final, gurgling breaths, (choke on the blood you're losing. Swallow it down so you vomit and burn your wounds with your own acid.) she would gave him the disgusting look that told him she had everything he'd ever wanted.

 

He nearly beat the kettle against the rim of the sink.

 

His hands shook with the force of an earthquake. He took in breath after breath to slow his heartbeat. Focusing again, he looked at the water.

 

_ Five _ . He turned off the faucet.

 

_ Four _ . Poured out the excess water.

 

_ Three _ . Dried the kettle.

 

_ Two _ . Turned on the stove.

 

_ One _ .

 

Maria sank into the cushion of the couch. It was comfortable, but not comforting. She let out a shaky sigh, painful as it passed the lump in her throat. Her heavy head fell to her hands. She began to sob again.

 

William's shoes let out rhythmic clicks as he moved to meet his guest on the couch.

 

"The water will be ready soon."

 

He could barely look at the back of her head without feeling that anger swell again.

 

_ One-hundred. _

 

He picked up the blanket he kept out for when he couldn't sleep in his bedroom. Shaking it out to its unfolded length, he came to stand behind where she sat and placed the blanket around her back.   
  


_ Eighty-seven. _ __   
  


He walked around to the front of the couch and sat next to her, being sure to maintain a comfortable distance.

 

"Thank you for the blanket…"

She didn't look at him.

 

"...Can I ask what happened?" It was  _ so  _ **_incredibly_ ** difficult to keep his voice soft.

 

She let out a deep, wavering sigh.

 

"Henry and I had… a fight," she admitted. She emphasized 'fight' in the way that made it an understatement.

 

That didn't explain her being here.

 

_ Sixty-four. _

 

William reached over, knowing he was supposed to give a comforting gesture.

 

"What were you fighting about?" He said, empty words to keep her talking.

 

His hand hovered over her back. With her head in her hands, the back of her neck was exposed.

 

_ Cover her mouth with one hand, reach around to choke her with the other. Shove her filthy face into the couch cushion to muffle her screams. _

 

His hand trembled with anger. He remembered the creaking of the window upstairs. The children knew who was here. There would be no escaping if she died today.

 

_...Fifty-five? _

 

Wrinkling his nose, he looked away from her vulnerability and placed his hand in the small of her back. Just as he had done for Henry so many times, he made circles there with his thumb. He felt Maria suck in a breath and hold it.

 

His hand felt like _salvation_.

 

He looked back at her, and, thinking he had done something wrong, tried to move his hand away. She leaned back into him before he could.

 

 _Disgusting._ _How starved for attention could someone be._

 

As if she could hear his inner criticism, she jumped to answer his question.

 

"Ever since… Sammy," She said, stuttering breaths following the boy's name,

 

"Henry's been… A shell."

 

William pressed his hand into her back a little firmer. She leaned harder into his hand.

 

"It's just that… God, that man spends _all_ **_day_** in his workshop. I don't remember the last time he slept in _bed_. He only eats if I _make_ him, lord knows when or _if_ he bathes."

 

William tried not to smile.

 

\--

 

"Henry... You've been working very hard for me. Do you know that?"

 

William leaned over the man at the desk. His thin hands caressed Henry's shoulders.

 

"And you know how much I love you for it, Don't you?"

 

Henry did not speak. He hadn't spoken to William since  _ it _ happened. With weighted eyelids, he simply continued to buffer the curved piece of urethane.

 

"Everything you touch becomes so beautiful, Henry…"

 

William's gentle coos and careful hands threatened to melt the man. And carefully, while Henry was distracted, William placed another blueprint into the pile.

 

"I have to go, Henry. I love you."

 

\--

 

"He's always been a hard worker..." William said, rubbing up and down Maria's back in a slow, soothing manner.

 

"Sure,  _ yeah _ ,  **_alright_ ** , that's one thing. It's one thing to work hard at doing what you love, but it's another when it's  _ all _ you  **_do_ ** . Good  **_God-_ ** he doesn't even  _ talk _ to me!" Her breath wavered again. Her eyes welled up with tears. She was getting more upset by the second.

 

"I'm his  _ wife _ ! You think he could find  _ some _ comfort in me, but  **no** ! He just  _ works _ and  _ works _ and  **_works_ ** and-"

 

PHWEEEEEEEE-

 

The sound was deafening as it cut off her speech. She balled her fists in the blanket and let out a heavy sigh.

 

"...Tea."

 

William gave her a soft pat on the back before standing.

 

"I'll be right back."

 

Maria felt lost when he removed his hand. She listened to his footsteps as he entered the kitchen. She shuddered and began to sob again. She felt something she hadn't felt in a long time, and prayed he wouldn't reject her.

 

Quick footsteps brought him to a temporary reprieve. The tiled kitchen floor brought a comfort as his shoes clicked against it. William took the kettle off the stove and prepared a tray for the two of them.

 

_ How fucking desperate can a person be.  _

 

He grimaced, thinking about how hard Maria leaned into him. He thought about going back to her wearing gloves.

 

He wiped the gathered dust off the tray before setting their mugs upon it. He realized he had stopped counting.

 

... _ Sixty? _

 

Sighing, he held the grips of the tray a little too tight and took slow steps back out to meet her.

 

Maria felt a jolt of excitement when she heard the click of William's shoes coming closer. Keeping the tray steady, he leaned down to place it on the coffee table. The ceramic clinked against the glass.

 

"Here… Lemon balm. It should soothe you." He moved to sit where he had been before, but Maria grasped the edge of the blanket and extended her arm out in offering.

 

_ Fucking hell. _

 

He smiled at her (fake _FAKE_ **_FAKE_** **_FAKE_** ) and moved closer, accepting the blanket around his own shoulder.

 

"Do you take cream? Sugar...?"

 

"No to both, thank you…"

 

Taking back the hand that had offered William the blanket, Maria reached out and gathered her mug in her hands, pulling it into her lap and staring down into the amber liquid. William moved his free hand to the small of her back again. She leaned into him again.

 

_ UGH _ .

 

He took a slow sip from his mug, letting the minty herb envelop his senses. He looked ahead, to the rain rolling down the window.

 

"I'm so sorry, Maria," he started, breaking the silence.

 

"I had no idea he was this…"

 

He fished for a word.

 

"... _Absent_." He settled. She was so exhausting that he couldn't even think of simple adjectives.

 

His voice was a deep rumble that permeated through Maria's being. Maria placed her head on the man's shoulder, nodding. He was stiff, but didn't move.

 

_ Get the fuck out of my house. _

 

That's what he wanted to say, but he said nothing. He continued to rub circles into her back with his thumb. The contact was disgusting. He took a sip of lemon balm, and felt the relief wash over him in every way but emotional.

 

_ So much for soothing. _

 

Maria rubbed her head against his shoulder, taking every ounce of contact she could gather.

 

They were quiet, for a moment. Maria finally sipped her tea. The feeling of William's small administrations comforted her more than tea ever could. She sighed and relaxed further into him, the feeling of him magic.

 

"It's been so long since I've been held like this," she said, voice quiet.

 

_ Disgusting. _

 

He stopped his movement to steel his stomach; he had to stop himself from retching. He took the deepest, quietest breaths he could manage.

 

She noticed how stiff he was.

 

"I'm- that just slipped out, I'm sorry,"

 

"It's alright," He said, swallowing down his mug of tea to try to appease his stomach. He placed the empty cup on the tea tray.

 

_ Fucking disgusting. _

 

He knew had to keep comforting her. This visit was proving to be prolonged torture. He continued, slowly, to trace shapes on her back.

She nearly wept again.

 

Blinking as to hold back further tears, She brought her mug back to her mouth and sipped a little more. She took the tea bag from her cup and set it on the tray. The surface of her remaining tea waved with her breath.

 

"I wish I wasn't this mad at him." She tapped her nails on the sides of the mug, little bright sounds against the muffled rain.

 

She received no reply. She continued.

 

"I mean, I get it, he's grieving," she said, voice sinking from the idea of it.

 

"But... Am I not grieving, too?" She stopped for a moment to let her voice settle.

 

"Will… I'm tired."

 

Something he  _ had _ to respond to.

 

"...I know."  _ Hopefully  _ that was enough. Thankfully, she kept talking.

 

"He doesn't talk to me, or anyone... He doesn't confide in me… he doesn't ask how  _ I  _ am… If  _ I'm _ okay." Her breath shuddered again.

 

"And he said  _ I _ was being selfish…"

 

He looked at her, then. That was...  _ unlike  _ Henry.

 

He considered that she might be exaggerating.

 

Maria set her mug on the table, barely touched, and turned fully into William's shoulder. She cried again. Slowly, lightly. Few tears were left, but they came.

 

William gingerly brought his arms around her, pulling her close.

 

He couldn't stand her.

 

They stayed there for a while, Maria held tight as she took sharp sighs, squeezing out her final tears. William rubbed along her spine with his palm, nearly bringing her tears of another kind.

 

It felt like he had been holding her for an eternity.

 

She felt he hadn't held her long enough.

 

"It's been so long…" she would say, and press into him further.

 

She eventually raised her face from his shoulder. William cupped her face in his hands, gathering some control over her forced contact, and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. Maria let out a sniffle.

 

"Thank you…" she managed, taking a deep, final breath.

 

William's elegant hands stayed where they were. Her face was pink, puffy from tears and the feeling that seemed so foreign only hours ago.

 

"Thank you… for listening to me," she finished, placing stability in her voice.

 

"Of course."

 

A silence grew between them. William did not know what to say. Maria looked up at him, not knowing what she expected, but waited. William looked down at her, her face vulnerable in his hands.

 

_ I could hit her. I could grab her and pound her face into the floor- _

 

He did his best to fill his expression with something that looked like concern.

 

_ -Forty-three. _

 

"It's been so long…" Maria started, and stopped, to swallow the lump in her throat. She looked into William's eyes. He looked back into hers. She pressed her face into his careful hands, and smiled.

 

Maria raised her hands to cup William's face, as he had done to her, and he paused, confused. She sighed, content. She had nothing left to say.

 

...Now was as good a time as any.

 

Maria pulled William to her, quickly enveloping him in a passionate kiss.

 

...!

 

He pushed her off of him, retreating to the opposite end of the couch. He was breathing like he was exhausted. Her smile faded off her face as quickly as it came.

 

She only seemed perturbed that his response wasn't positive.

 

"WHAT THE  _FUCK_ _!"   _ He yelled. There was a quiet shuffling upstairs.

 

She shushed him aggressively.

 

"Shh!! ...William? I need you."

 

Shock was clear on his face. He couldn't fathom what thoughts brought her to this. His mind was blank.

 

"I've been so alone, Will…" She climbed closer to him, placed her hand on his,

 

"I haven't had anyone to hold me, to tell me it'll be okay-"

 

"Maria-!" Alarm was evident in his voice,

 

"-You've been so sweet, so caring-"

 

"-What about Henry!?" Which became anger.

 

The question made her stop. Her brow furrowed.

 

She leaned even closer to him, frustration in her voice.

 

"He's barely even a  _ person _ anymore, Will-"

 

She sighed.

 

"He doesn't have to know. I don't know if he still cares."

 

William tried to look away. Maria put her hand on his face and turned it back to her, re-initiating eye contact.

 

"William…  _ Please, _ " she pleaded, desperate.

 

William tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Finally able to think again, he realized the opportunity presented to him.

 

 

Silence grew.

 

The air conditioner whirred.

Rain drummed against the roof.

Water dripped down the windows.

The house groaned.

The two sat, staring at one another.

 

Swallowing his disgust, William cupped Maria's face in his hands and, shaking, leaned forward to return her kiss.

 

 

Maria smiled.

 

Henry's car sat in the driveway.   
  



End file.
